


Tea Leaves and Coffee Mugs

by TimeFreeze00



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-10-23 21:09:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10727295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeFreeze00/pseuds/TimeFreeze00
Summary: Lexa Woods is on the path to accomplishing every dream she's ever had. She has the perfect girlfriend, four potential basketball scholarship offers, a loving dad, and amazing friends. But when Lexa is told that she might not graduate due to her lack of art credits, Lexa sees all her dreams begin to slip away. Enters Clarke Griffin, Mason Hill High school art prodigy, who promises Lexa that she'll help her pass the art course that will determine her future. Will Clarke suceeed in helping Lexa? Or will Lexa have to repeat senior year?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Guys this is my first story. I hope you like it:)  
> I don't have a Beta, so all errors are my own.  
> Feel free to leave comments, I'd love to hear from you. Enjoy!

_Swish_. The sound of a basketball flying cleanly through the net. The sound of hard work, of dedication. Or, as Lexa liked to call it, the sound of perfection. She grabbed the rebound and dribbled towards the foul line. Coach Indra’s voice rang in her head. _Hip, elbow, and shoulder alignment. Eye on the basket, ball and palm balance, follow through_. That was all it took to get the perfect shot. To be the best player. The rules were so easy, so simple. But, like everything else in life, the actual execution was much harder. And because of this simple truth, Lexa practiced. She lived basketball. She only ate foods that would improve her game. She ran at least 4 miles every morning. She lifted weights and she got to school an hour earlier than everyone else so she could shoot some hoops before class. Which was exactly what she was doing this particular morning.

     She shot the ball again and watched it rip through the net. She grabbed the ball. _Uconn_ , Lexa thought. She did a behind the back crossover, step hesitation. She exploded towards the basket. _UCLA_. She dribbled the ball in between her legs, went up for the layup. _Duke_. Sweat was dripping in rivulets down her back. She felt it dripping down the sides of her face. The muscles in her arm were burning. It was the best feeling in the world. _Maryland_. Another basket. Everything felt so right. She felt so fast, so graceful, so in her element. She also felt extremely fatigued. Lexa hunched over breathing hard. The ball rolled to the end of the gym and hit the wall. Lexa let it go. She lied down on her back, relishing the feeling of the cool laminated wood through her sweat-soaked jersey.

     All those colleges were going to come see her play this year. This was it. The year that she had been waiting for. All the hard work, the practices, the endless training. All those hard days where she nearly quit. Those teammates back in middle school who made fun of her, who called her names because of her bad eyesight made her wear sports goggles (She was very afraid of contact lenses). That night sophomore year, after Lexa had scored 42 points. How happy she felt, like she was walking on air. How confused she was when she saw that her parents weren't waiting for her at the end of the game. And she remembered how it felt that night to go from soaring through the air to falling into nothingness. The night her mother died, and things got dark for a long time. All those moments hurt. Some more than others. They nearly made her forget how much she loved the game. How right the orange sphere felt in her hands. Almost. But she persevered. She was here, in her senior year.

_Uconn. UCLA. Duke. Maryland._

    Lexa picked up her tired arm and looked through bleary eyes at the time in her Fitbit. Oh shit. There was no way she was going to be able to shower and make it to class on time. She hastily peeled herself of the floor and grabbed her athletic bag from the bleachers and ran towards the girl's locker room.

* * *

     Clarke Griffin loves STEAM. Though she doesn’t actually live in the Mason Hill high school district, she wrote a special letter to the school board before her freshman year started asking if she could transfer over. By some miracle, or maybe Abby Griffin's superb writing skills, they accepted Clarke into their school. She was overjoyed by the news of course, because MHH was the only public high school in Washington state that offered STEAM - Science Technology Engineering Arts Math - which was just like STEM but with the addition of art and design. Originally, Clarke had just wanted to go to a private school that had a program with an emphasis on the arts, but Abby refused. Though the Griffins certainly had the money with Jake’s aerospace mechanical engineering job at NASA and her own formidable position at Children’s hospital, She was a fervent believer that kids should go to public school and have equal opportunity. Clarke had wanted to tell her mother that the fact that she transferred out of her school district to go to a specific school wasn't exactly equal opportunity, but she let it slide. As long as she had a good place to cultivate her art talent, she was happy. Besides, Mason Hill was one of the best public high schools in the country. It had state of the art facilities, amazing faculty, and a good student body. She was lucky to go there.

     “Yo, Griff,” her best friend Raven tapped her on the shoulder, getting even more clay on Clarke’s apron. She gestured frustratedly at the weirdly shaped lump on her pottery wheel. “Do you think this looks like a vase?” Clarke stifled down the giggle that was building up in her throat. They were sitting in the back of the school’s large art studio, with pottery wheels in front of them. The assignment in art this week was to make any sort of container out of clay, something that could hold a physical substance, and decorate it with what they thought represented the culture of the country they were assigned. Raven’s “vase” might look like a misshapen potato, but it definitely did not look like anything that could hold flowers.

     “I don’t know Rae, I gotta admit, I don’t really see it. It would make a really nice Mr. Potato head though.” Raven must have heard the laughter in her voice because she scowled.

     “Ah shut up Clarke. Not everyone can make art pieces worthy of a museum.” It was true. Clarke had been assigned Argentina, and she had decorated her bowl with intricate designs of colorful flowers. The designs of the flowers were connected by vines begin at the center of the bowl and wrapped around the flowers. It was a breathtaking, vibrant design. It definitely did not look like something that belonged in a high school classroom. She gave Raven her best playful grin.

    “Thanks, Rae, I'm glad you liked it.” Raven took her attention off her potato-like vase to give Clarke an annoyed look, not noticing, along with Clarke, that her potato was slowly sliding of the wheel.

     “I miss Octavia,” Raven grumbled. “She’s nicer to me.” Octavia, the third musketeer in their trio, was away at a soccer tournament. Both Clarke and Raven knew that if she was actually here, she would mock Raven’s potato-vase way more than Clarke. Being the sarcastic one in their group, she wasn’t really the type to let things slide without at least one joke. Not that her project would be better than Raven’s. Art wasn’t really Octavia’s strong point either. But then again, Octavia didn’t take their advanced art class, so Clarke couldn't mock her work anyway. Clarke feigned hurt at her words.

     “What? I am so nice to you. I am like, the queen of nice.” Raven snorted. “More like the queen of Jerk Land.” Mr. Oakhurst, their pudgy, sweaty art teacher, who was making circles around the room checking on art projects suddenly noticed Raven’s teetering clay potato.

     “Raven, be careful!” He yelled out. It was too late though. The project teetered off the wheel and fell with a decisive splat on the ground. Everyone in the class turned around to see what the commotion was all about. Raven looked in shock at her now splattered project.

     “No,” she moaned. “Not my beautiful vase.” She covered her face with her hands. That was the final straw for Clarke. She burst out laughing so hard, she nearly fell off her stool. Mr. Oakhurst walked over and surveyed the potato. Well, more like mashed potatoes now, Clarke thought. The idea only made her laugh harder.

     “I’m afraid that you’ll have to start over, Miss Reyes. And I can’t give you an extension on the project. Next time, I’d appreciate if you’d pay attention to your art and not to Miss Griffin please.” He gave Clarke’s bowl an admiring glance and walked away, leaving Raven with a distressed look on her face.

     “Shit shit shit shit shit. What am I going to do? I’m so screwed. Just preparing this dumb clay takes forever.” Clarke wanted to tell her that she wasn't so far along with the fallen project to begin with, but she was laughing too hard to get the words out. Raven banged her head against the wall in frustration, not hard enough though, Clarke noticed, to actually hurt. Seeing Raven’s real distress, Clarke sobered up. She gave a fake exasperated sigh.

     “Ugh, I guess I’ll have to help you then.” Raven stopped banging her head on the wall and looked at Clarke hopefully. “Really?” “Sure”, Clarke shrugged. We can use my studio at home tonight to get you all caught up. God knows you're at my house every second of the day anyway. Might as well do something productive.” Raven jumped up, grabbed Clarke by the waist, and started peppering kisses all over her face.

     “Griff, I love you, you are the actual peanut butter to my jelly.” Clarke tried to duck away from Raven’s affectionate attack. “Ew Rae, get off me. And stop using weird metaphors to describe our relationship. I’m not the peanut butter to your jelly. Or the spoon to your cereal.” She thought about the weird phrase for a moment. “You know, I don't even think that’s a thing. If anything, I’d be the milk to your cereal.” Raven sat obediently back down on her stool and grinned up at Clarke.

     “I owe you my life, Griff.” Clarke grinned right back. It was really sweet of her to think that she would do this for free.

     “Woah” Clarke shook her head. “Not so fast Reyes. I want something in return.” Raven looked at Clarke earnestly.

     “Anything.”

     “You have to help me with all my physics and calc homework for the next two weeks.” Though Raven’s art skills were lacking, her analytical skills were not. Clarke had never seen a person more proficient at math. Their math teacher, Ms. Gibson, had called Raven one of the best mathematical minds she’d ever seen. During Raven’s freshman year she pulled her out of her calc II class, which, as a freshman, was already an extremely advanced course for her age, and put her in an independent study linear algebra university course. Since then, Raven had taken all different kind of math courses that Clarke didn’t even know the name of. Clarke was pretty sure that Raven was more knowledgeable on the subject then some math majors she knew.

     Raven stuck out her hand, and they shook.

     “Deal.”

     

* * *

     Lexa Woods hates STEAM. She was headed to her last class of the day, Advanced Fine Arts. As she walked down the busy hallway to try to get to the art section of the school, she wondered if this was really happening to her. Could the school really put her into an advanced art class when she had never before even took an Intro to Art class, and expect her to pass? Were they insane? That was a rhetorical question of course. After her short chat with Principal Green, she was almost positive that the man was losing his marbles.

    _One week ago..._

_“This is a STEAM school, Miss Woods. Not a STEM school. And that means that you must take this art class. Frankly, I don’t understand how you’ve gone through three years at MHH without taking at least one art course.” Lexa was sitting in Principal Greene’s office. It was a nice day out in North Seattle, and sunlight was filtering through the big windows, brightening up the office and giving everything in the room that light and airy feel. Lexa however, did not feel light or airy. Dread was settling deep in her stomach, and she sunk lower into the large soft chair was sitting on._

_“But Mr. Green, my grades in all my other classes are perfect. Surely you can see that there is absolutely no reason for me to take this art class. It’s simply not necessary, sir.” Principal Greene shook his head. His hands were clasped in front of him on top of the huge mahogany desk that filled up most of his office._

_“Miss Woods, I’ll say this again; this is a STEAM school. STEAM, do you understand? That includes Art. You must take this class if you want to graduate with your classmates this spring. If you don’t, I simply won’t be able to give you your diploma.” Lexa felt her jaw drop. She wouldn’t graduate? Was he insane? What about UCLA and Uconn? What about her basketball scholarships? He could not be serious. And what if she failed the class, what then? Would the school really not let her graduate?          “But Mr. Green - “_

_“I’m sorry Miss Woods,” he cut her off. “This isn’t a negotiation. One more thing before you go. Even if you do take our most advanced class, you still won’t have enough art credits to graduate. However, because of you impeccable grades and you very obvious hard work ethic, if you get at least a B in the class, I’ll be willing to double the credits.” Lexa was pretty sure that her jaw was touching the floor now. Not only did he want her to take the hardest art course the school had to offer, but he wanted her to get a B? “I understand that learning these art techniques may be very difficult to learn in such a short time, especially with basketball season right around the corner. Therefore, I will ask your teacher, Mr. Oakhurst, to ask one of his students to tutor you.”_

_Lexa stood up. This was not happening to her. “Mr. Green - “_

_“Have a good day Miss Woods. I believe you have Extragalactic Astronomy with Professor Flynn now, correct? I’ll give you a tardy slip.” His voice was gentle but firm. Something about the tilt of his chin told Lexa that he wasn’t about to change his mind. Furious at him, Lexa grabbed the tardy slip from his hand and stormed out of the office. “You start next week on Monday miss Woods,” he called out after her. “I better hear from your teacher that you will be present.”_

     Lexa didn’t understand why she had to take art anyway. She just wasn’t good at it, and it was a complete waste of her time. She liked math and basketball, that was it. There was a reason she didn’t enroll in art classes freshman, sophomore, and junior year. She didn’t like art. It was just her luck. Out of all the districts in Washington, she happened to live in the one that had the only public school STEAM program in the state. Her father, Gustus Woods, hadn’t been as sympathetic to her situation as she had hoped either. Well, not sympathetic was actually an understatement…

_“Lexa honey, I don’t know what you want me to about it. From what you’re telling me, it’s school policy. There’s nothing I can do.” They were sitting in the family room, binge-watching The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, their favorite late night talk show. Hearing the comedian bash Trump was one of their favorite activities, but they both couldn’t stay up late enough to actually watch the show at midnight. Therefore, they usually streamed it directly from the show's website during dinner. Lexa looked at him incredulously._

_“Nothing you can do? Dad this is my future we’re talking about it. You should storm the school and demand I get out of this class. Where’s the social justice? You should hold a protest for my rights.” Gustus just laughed._

_“Oh c’mon Lex, don’t be so dramatic. Just get the grade. You’ll be fine, you always are.” Lexa huffed and crossed her arms over her chest._

_“You know it’s much harder than that dad. Basketball is coming up. That’s what I should be focused on, not some dumb art class. You should be furious on my behalf.” The show came to an end, and Gustus picked up the remote and turned off the flat screen. He picked up the plates and walked towards the sink._

_“To be honest Lex, I’m a little mad at you, not at the school. It wasn’t smart of you to neglect art like that. You put your future in jeopardy.” Lexa just gaped at him. He wasn’t serious._

_“Is this a joke? My own father isn’t even on my side?” Gustus gave a low hum from where he was washing dishes._

_“I’m always on your side Lexa, you know that. I know you can do this, you’ll be fine. Just relax okay?”_

     Easy for him to say, Lexa thought now. He wasn’t the one that might have to repeat his senior year. She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice that a slim, dark haired girl had been following for the past five minutes, trying to catch up with her angry stride. She was jolted out of her thoughts when she felt a hand grasp her arm.      

     “Jeez Lex, why are you walking so fast? This is a hallway, not a track course.” Lexa grinned at her wheezing girlfriend. Costia’s inability to do any sort of physical activity never ceased to amuse her. Looking at her, Lexa felt all her anger evaporate. That’s how it usually was with Costia. She never failed to make Lexa feel at ease.        

     “Sorry Cos. You know I’m a fast walker.” Costia gave her an endearing look. “Yeah,” She said softly, almost sadly. “I know.” Concerned by her tone, Lexa stepped forward and took the girl’s hands in her own, ignoring the fact that she was standing in a hallway full of obnoxious teenagers. She looked into Costia’s deep brown eyes.

     “Cos, is something wrong? You’ve been giving me this same sad, nostalgic look all week. And I feel like you’ve been avoiding my calls lately. You know you can talk to me about anything right? Just like always.” Lexa and Costia had been best friends ever since Lexa had offered Costia her apple slices in grade school. From then on they had been almost inseparable. They hung out every day after school, rode their bikes together, and even participated in after school activities together. Sophomore year, things had started to get more and more romantic between them. Lingering glances, careful touches, and longing looks became more and more prominent in their relationship. Lexa can still remember how jealous she was to find out the Costia had slept with some random girl at a party they attended. She didn’t talk to Costia for an entire week until Costia had cornered her and demanded Lexa tell her why she was ignoring her. It was after that huge fight that Lexa finally admitted to Costia how she felt and kissed her. Costia then proceeded to tell her the felt the same way. Since then, they’ve had an amazing, fulfilling relationship. But for the past month or so, Lexa had felt Costia grow more and more distant. She decided to give Costia time to come and talk about it with her, but it didn’t look like she was going to anytime soon. That’s why Lexa decided it was finally time to take matters into her own hands.

     “Nothing’s wrong Lex. If there was an issue, I’d come to you.” Lexa frowned at her, not convinced. She was about to push to the topic when the tardy bell rang, students shuffling to their next class.

     “Ah shoot, I've got to go, Cos. I have that ridiculous art class I was telling you about.” Costia nodded and took her hands out of Lexa’s. Lexa immediately felt the loss. She desperately wanted just to skip this dumb art class and spend the afternoon with her beautiful girlfriend. Maybe then she could then finally persuade Costia to tell her what was wrong. But she couldn’t. Not with her scholarships on the line.

     “Look Cos, I really think we need to talk. I promised Anya that we'd play some basketball after school today, but meet me at our place during lunch tomorrow, okay?” Lexa didn’t even give Costia a chance to respond. She kissed her girlfriend on the cheek and turned around, speed walking to get to the art studio before she was too late. As she reached the studio door, she turned around to wave good goodbye to Costia, but the girl was already gone. Lexa tried to ignore the pit in her stomach. Everything would be fine. This was Costia. Everything would be completely and totally fine. She took a deep breath and walked into the studio.

* * *

     “Miss Woods, I’m glad you could finally join us.” Clarke looked up from her putting the final touches on her bowl and focused her attention on the front of the classroom. It was Monday afternoon, about a week after Raven’s pottery catastrophe, and the two girls were putting the final touches on their projects. Mr. Oakhurst was addressing a new student who had walked in five minutes late. Clarke felt a twinge of sympathy for the new girl; Oakhurst hated tardiness. The girl shrugged apologetically.

     “I’m sorry sir. I’ve never been to this section of the school and I got lost.” Oakhurst didn't seem particularly sympathetic.

     “Next time I expect you to be on time, Miss Woods. We don’t tolerate tardiness in this class.” The girl straightened her shoulders and looked Oakhurst in the eye.

     “Yes, sir.” The new student replied. Not just any student Clarke realized. He was addressing Lexa Woods, MHH’s star basketball player. Just a few weeks ago there had been an assembly honoring Woods’ basketball accomplishments. The school put her jersey up in their hall of fame. Clarke didn’t know much about basketball, but even she knew that having your jersey put up was a huge deal. Clarke wondered why Lexa was suddenly taking Advanced Fine Arts. She didn't really seem like the art type. Now that Clarke was thinking about it, she couldn’t remember seeing Lexa in any art class ever, even though she was in Clarke’s grade.

     Clarke tried to eavesdrop on more of their conversation, but their words became unintelligible as Oakhurst led Lexa to his desk where he picked up some paperwork.

     “Woah, Griff. Is it just me, or did Hottie Woods just walk into our art class?” Raven was putting the finishing touches on her vase, which, thanks to Clarke, actually looked like a vase. She was gaping at Lexa from across the room, and for the fifth time today, Clarke felt extreme embarrassment over Raven’s behavior.

     “Oh My God Rae, did you seriously just call her Hottie Woods? What is wrong with you?” “Hey,” Raven said defensively. “She is hot. I mean look at her. I don’t swing that way, but you should definitely hit that Griffin.” Clarke groaned and hit her forehead with her hand. She seriously needed to work on proper speech etiquette with Raven. Not that Raven was wrong. Lexa Woods was definitely good looking. She had a slim and athletic build, long curly brown hair, and beautiful green eyes. Clarke had been harboring a minor crush on Lexa since freshman year. If you could even call it that. How could you crush on someone you’ve never talked to before?

     “First, please never say ‘hit that’ again, okay? And second, she has a girlfriend.” Clarke was going to say more before Oakhurst called her name, disrupting the conversation. She walked across the room, a little nervously, to where he was waiting with Lexa. The girl looked extremely uncomfortable and she was staring down at her feet. Clarke took the opportunity to examine her. Lexa’s hair was down, falling in waves around her face. She was wearing a gray KÜHL Firefly jacket open over a white T-shirt. Her blue skinny jeans were tucked into black Blundstone boots, and Clarke couldn’t help but notice how nicely the denim hugged her long legs. She was snapped out of her thoughts by Oakhurst, who had started talking again.

     “Miss Griffin, this is Lexa Woods. She’ll be joining our art class this year.” Lexa looked up from the floor and gave Clarke a subtle nod. Clarke nodded back and introduced herself. She got a serious vibe from the girl, which made Clark a little nervous. She didn’t really do well around stoic people. She preferred the easy going type, like Raven and Octavia. Just one nod from Lexa gave Clarke the feeling that Lexa didn’t fit that criterion, especially around strangers. “Is there something I can help you with sir?” Clarke was a little confused at to why Oakhurst had called her up here.

     “Yes Clarke, I would like to ask you a favor. Miss Woods here has never taken an art class before.” Clarke looked at Lexa, surprised. Sure, she had never seen Woods in one of her own art classes, but she still assumed Lexa took art, she had just thought lower level art. MHH was a STEAM school after all. The sourness in Oakhurst's voice also told Clarke that her teacher was a little upset that basketball star hadn’t found art worthy of her time. “Because of this, Miss Woods needs to get a B in this course in order to graduate.” Clarke’s surprise grew. Woods might not graduate? “Principal Green has asked me to find Miss Woods a tutor, someone from the class. Seeing as you are by far the best in the class, I was wondering if you’d be willing to help Miss Woods with her work a few times a week after school, teach her the basics.” Clarke just looked at her teacher. He wanted her to tutor Lexa Woods after school? What? Clarke glanced at Lexa to see what she thought of this whole situation, but the girl had returned her steady gaze to the floor, obviously not a big fan of needing help from others. Clarke wasn’t sure exactly how all this would turn out, but she was willing to help. Art was easy for her. She might as well help Woods if she could.

     “I wouldn’t mind tutoring Woods sir.” Oakhurst smiled, relieved that he had finally gotten rid of the situation. He hadn’t been very pleased when principal green had approached him with the Woods situation.

     “Well then, perfect. Thank you, Miss Griffin. Miss Woods, I believe we’ve found you a tutor. I’ll leave you girls to it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so here's chapter 2. I hope you like it:)  
> All errors are my own.

     The cool surface of Lexa’s coffee mug was annoyingly soothing against her sweaty palms. She wrapped her fingers tightly around it, part of her hoping that maybe, somehow, if she squished her palms hard enough against the surface, the scalding liquid inside would pass through the thick ceramic. Maybe then, the feeling of her burning flesh would finally distract her from the ache in her heart. She gripped even harder. Nothing. The only thing she could feel against the surface of her palms was the design of the protruding ferry boat that decorated the Starbucks coffee mug she was holding. She wished she could go back to the day when she had gotten the mug. Things had been so much simpler then. Not as much heartache, and not as much stress. Back to the days when life didn’t feel like a rollercoaster that was constantly trying to get her to fall off...

    _Two years ago…_

_“Cos I don’t need a coffee mug, okay? I don’t drink coffee. I drink tea for god's sake. You out of all people should know that.” They were standing in a Starbucks coffee shop, in front of a shelf of coffee cups. It was 7:55 am, and they had been on their way to school before Costia had insisted that Lexa pull up into the coffee shops’ driveway. Lexa had sworn off Starbucks the second she learned how much sugar they put in their drinks, but Costia, like the majority of Seattle’s residents, was completely addicted. And thanks to Costia’s sweet tooth, they were going to be late to school. Again._

_“I do know that Lex. But you should get a mug anyway. It’s for hot drinks, not just coffee. And besides, I’m freaking tired of having your tea spill out of that dumb little cup of yours and onto my lap.” The corner of Lexa’s mouth turned up at the statement. After all, It was pretty funny how her chamomile tea almost always managed to end up on Costa's clothes. Costia took one look at Lexa’s amused expression and rolled her eyes._

_“Please Lex. Just get the coffee mug okay? For me? And look -” She held up the mug she had picked out for Lexa. “ It has the design of a ferry boat on it. Isn’t that cute? It’s so Seattle. Show some city pride. ” Lexa shook her head at her girlfriend's craziness. “I’m not getting a coffee mug when I don't even drink coffee, Cos.” Lexa wrinkled her nose._

_”I don't care how ‘cute’ it is, okay?” Costia heaved out a long dramatic sigh. “You suck Lexa, you know that? “You know you love me.” Costia shook her head._

_“Unfortunately for me, that's actually true.” She turned around without another word and walked away. “Hey,” Lexa protested. “Where are you going?” Costia lifted the mug up and over her shoulder, not bothering to turn around._

_“To buy this for you. I’m thinking of it as a future investment for myself actually. I don’t really like having to throw away my favorite articles of clothing just because I can’t get the smell of chamomile out of them.” Lexa grinned at her girlfriend's back. It was amazing how Costia always managed to make her smile, even when they disagreed on an issue. Sighing, she took out her wallet and followed her girlfriend towards the cash register. She could afford a dumb coffee mug. Even if she didn’t drink coffee._

     Lexa sighed, checking her watch for the 15th time that hour. 1:55. Lunch was going to end soon. She was sitting in an abandoned classroom on the third floor of the high school, waiting for Costia to show up. She took out her phone and sent Costia a text. Lexa: Hey, where are you? I’ve been up here for 45 minutes. She set her phone down beside her on the table and tried to ignore how dismayed she felt. She traced the ferryboat on her mug over and over again with her finger, thinking about Costia, and glancing over at her phone every two seconds even though the device was on vibrate. Suddenly, the bell rang, snapping Lexa out of her thoughts. She sighed as she slung her backpack over her shoulder and glanced around the familiar room. There were memories of Costia here everywhere in here for her. Memories in the chair in the corner with the missing leg, memories in the old wood desk in the center of the room, and memories by the window that showed a magnificent view of the forests that surrounded Mason Hill. Swallowing back the lump in her throat, Lexa picked up her coffee mug and walked out of the room.

     

* * *

     “So your tutoring Lexa Woods, huh, Clarke?” You should definitely hit that.” Clarke groaned. She, Octavia, and Raven were sitting in Mason Hill’s lunchroom at their usual table. It was a pretty nice day out for September in Seattle, and light was coming through the big arched windows that surrounded the room. Everybody was sitting with their friends and enjoying their lunch. Clarke would be too If it weren’t for her very annoying company. Raven let out a laugh and gave Octavia a high five.

     “That’s what I said, O. We are so in sync.” Clarke glared at both of them. “If you want me to continue to hang out with you guys, you have to stop saying that,” Clarke said, annoyed.

     “I don’t know, Rae. What do you think? Should we leave little Clarkey alone, and stop teasing her about her crush?” Octavia said, jokingly.

     “Who has a crush?” A voice inquired behind Clarke. Bellamy, Octavia’s twin brother slid into the seat next to Clarke’s, putting down his lunch tray with a thwack. Clarke felt her cheeks go red.

     “Nothing!” she said, a bit too fast. Bellamy raised his dark eyebrows at her.

     “Um...okay. Whatever you say, princess.” Clarke scowled at the nickname. She had known Bellamy and Octavia since they were six when the Blakes had first moved into the house next to the Griffin's. Abby had baked the Blakes a pie to welcome them into the neighborhood and had asked Clarke to come along to deliver it. Just as Mrs. Blake opened the door to greet her new neighbors, two black haired deviants ran out from behind her, one chasing the other, right into six-year-old Clarke, who had been holding the pie. Needless to say, it had been a messy situation. But Abby and Ms. Blake, who later introduced herself as Aurora, just laughed. Bellamy, who had fallen on top of Clarke had dizzily picked up his head. He had glanced at Clark’s blonde hair, full of apple pie, and asked her, dazed,

     “Are you a princess?” The nickname had stuck ever since. Bellamy unwrapped his cheeseburger and bit into it, making pickles and mustard fall out of the end of the burger and onto his lunch tray. Octavia wrinkled her nose at him.

     “I don’t know how you eat those things Bell. They're actually trash.” “Yeah, well at least I don’t force mom to make me a lunch like I’m six years old,” Bellamy said, annoyed, gesturing at Octavia’s bagged lunch. Octavia just shrugged her shoulders at him. Raven nodded at Bellamy and unwrapped her own cheeseburger.

     “I have to agree with your bro, Octavia. This is the stuff.” “Whatever. Don’t come crying to me when you two are obese.” Octavia said, only half annoyed. Bellamy patted his very smooth, very not obese stomach.

     “We’ll see about that, O.” Octavia just sighed and looked over at the two unoccupied seats at their table. “Where the hell are Monty and Jasper?” she asked. Monty and Jasper were the troublemakers in their group and Bellamy’s best friends. Sometime during Junior year, Clarke, Raven, and Octavia’s friend group, and Bellamy, Jasper, and Monty’s friend group had combined. Since then, the six of them hung out together pretty much all the time. It was weird that the two boys weren’t already at the lunch table. They were usually the first to get food. Monty and Jasper never stopped eating. Bellamy mumbled something unintelligible.

     “What was, that Bell? I couldn’t hear anything around the poison you were eating,” Octavia said. Bellamy swallowed, ignored the jab, and said, “They're in detention. Mr. Blair caught them trying to decompose hydrazine into water by heating it up in chem today. He went ballistic. They're going to be having lunch in his office for the week.” Raven scoffed.

     “What amateurs. Everyone knows that if you want to decompose hydrazine into its component gasses over an iridium catalyst, you have to have a heat gun that can go up to at least 800 degrees celsius to prevent an explosion, and the school can’t afford that type of equipment. It's the only possible way to combine the 2H2 with the O2.” Everyone at the table went silent and stared at her. “What?” Raven said, defensively. “Why are you guys all looking at me like that? It’s true.” Bellamy cleared his throat.

     “You know Raven, you act like such a goofball sometimes I forget that you're actually a genius.” Raven blushed at his comment but didn’t respond. Bellamy wiped some mustard of the corner of his mouth with Clarke’s napkin, ignoring her protests. “ Anyway, speaking of Jasper and Monty, they’re throwing a party Saturday night. Monty’s parents are going to Florida for a few days. I guess principal Green has some sort meeting with the board there or something,” Bellamy shrugged. “Anyway all three of you are helping set up Friday. It’s going to be a blast.”

     “Oooo,” Raven said, looking at Clarke with a mischievous look in her eyes. “You should definitely invite Woods, Griff.” Clarke thought she was going to die of embarrassment when she saw the confused look in Bellamy’s eyes.

     “You mean Basketball Woods? She and her friends never come to Monty and Jasper’s parties, they're way too uptight about being healthy and whatever. And why would Clarke invite her? They don’t know even know each other.” Octavia and Raven just looked at each other and burst out laughing. Clarke buried her head in her hands, regretting the day Freshman year that she ever told Octavia and Raven that she had a minor crush on Lexa Woods. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

     Lexa was following Costia. Or, at least, she was trying to. It was the end of the school day, and the girl was moving fast towards the parking lot, weaving through high schoolers like they were invisible. Lexa on the other hand was having much more trouble. Students bumped into her so many times that she began to think that they were getting in her way on purpose, like a mini obstacle course the stood between her and Costia. Lexa almost considered calling out to the other girl, but she doubted Costia would hear her over the roar of 2,000 students. And a cold feeling in her gut told her that even if Costia did hear her, she wouldn’t turn around.

     Suddenly, Lexa felt herself collide with a body, and her back was flat on the floor, her basketball equipment and her books flying all over the place. She groaned and rubbed the back of her head with her hand.

     “Oh my god, I am so so sorry.” Lexa looked up to see a familiar blonde head leaning over her. Clarke put out her hand, and Lexa took it, rising up from the floor. “Here,” Clarke said, “Let me help you,” The blonde got down on her knees and begin picking Lexa’s stuff up. Lexa, who was still dazed, let her. Before she knew it, Clarke had gathered all of her stuff up off the floor and was handing it to her, her other hand running through her hair nervously. “Again Lexa, I am so sorry. I was just trying to walk towards you, but I guess you didn't see me or something, and we just kinda slammed into each other I guess,” the girl rambled. Lexa wasn’t even listing. She was looking over Clark's shoulder, desperately seeking out Costia's head. But her efforts were in vain. The girl was gone. “Lexa? Lexa, can you hear me?”

     Lexa zoned back into reality. She realized that Clarke was still talking to her. “I’m sorry, Clarke, what did you say?” The blonde gave her a weird look. She cleared her throat. “Um, I was just apologizing for knocking into you.” Lexa shook her head. “No, I am sorry Clarke. I should have been paying more attention. Clarke nodded, a little taken back by Lexa’s seriousness. Lexa’s weird behavior would definitely take some getting used too. Clarke had to admit though, she kind of liked it. “Maybe it was both our faults then. Listen, I forgot to ask you in art yesterday for your number.” Lexa gave Clarke a confused look, making the blonde blush. “I mean, so we can schedule times for tutoring,” Clarke clarified quickly. “Oh,” Lexa said. “Of course. Here, swap phones with me.” Lexa gave Clarke her cellphone and took the blonde in return. She quickly punched in her number and handed Clarke back her phone. The other girl did the same.

     “Um, okay cool. So what time do you think we could get together?” Lexa thought it over quickly in her head. “I have basketball practice right now, so I'll get home around five. Then there’s something I need to do, but how about seven tonight?” Clarke nodded. “That works for me. I’ll text you the details.” Clarke hastily said goodbye and left, walking towards the school’s front doors. Lexa went the opposite way, heading towards the gym. On her way there she couldn’t help but be frustrated that she had let Costia slip away. She quickly went into the locker room to change, dismayed to see that it was empty and that she was late to practice. As she reached the gym doors, she forced herself to empty her mind. It was basketball time.

     She opened the doors and walked towards the center of the court where the team was surrounding Coach Indra, obviously waiting for her. “Glad to see that you finally showed up Captain Woods.” Lexa kept her mouth shut. Indra wasn’t the type to accept excuses. Lexa joined her teammates silently. “Because of your Captains tardiness, you will all be running 50 suicides,” Indra announced, eliciting a groan from the team. When no one moved Indra blew her whistle. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Indra blew her whistle again. “Line up!” All the girls hustled to the baseline. Lexa was about to join them before Indra grabbed her arm. “Not so fast Woods.” Indra shoved a basketball in her arms. “You’re doing the suicides while dribbling. And I want you to alternate between your dominant and nondominant hand every completed set. If you lost control of the ball, you start over.” Lexa looked at her coach in shock, about to argue before just closing her mouth.

     “Yes, Coach,” She said. She took the basketball and jogging towards the baseline.

* * *

     Lexa stood on the porch of a big townhouse. She had been standing there for a good ten minutes, trying to build up the courage to knock on the big oak door. She took a deep breath, closed her fist and… held it there. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Why couldn’t she knock? She’d been to this house a thousand times before. But for some reason, everything felt foreign to her; the swing set, the hammock on the porch, and even the apple tree that she had climbed thousands of times. Everything just felt so wrong.

     Lexa took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and knocked on the Jones’ door. She heard the shuffling of steps, apprehension growing in her stomach before the door swung open. “Lexa! It’s so good to see you. Come inside kiddo.” Lexa was so relieved that someone had opened the door. She stepped inside and was immediately engulfed in a hug by Mr. Jones. Costia’s father was a small, handsome man who was extremely kind and supportive. Lexa loved him a lot, and she talked to him almost as much as she did to his daughter.

     Costia was born while Mr. Jones was still in high school. His girlfriend at the time, Emily, had wanted an abortion. Mr. Jones had pleaded with her to have the baby. The second Costia was born, Emily handed him the baby, barely glancing at the newborn. She stayed in the hospital for a few days and then left immediately after, not visiting Costia once during her stay. Mr. Jones hadn’t seen her since. She knew that the topic of her mother was a sore spot for Costia, but Lexa thought that both she and Mr. Jones had gained had gained much from her absence. They loved each other with a fierce protectiveness, with an undying love and that Lexa felt for her own father. It was a beautiful thing, and Lexa knew that both she and Costia were lucky in their own way.

     Mr. Jones finally let Lexa go and said, “I’m so glad that you’re here Lex. I was so worried that you wouldn’t come by before we left.” Before Lexa could ask him what he meant by that, he said, “I’ve got work to do, but stop by before you leave okay? I want to catch up.” Before she could say anything, he walked away towards the kitchen, calling out over his shoulder, “she's upstairs. Keep the door open please.” Lexa blushed at the statement, the way she always did when Mr. Jones said that. She climbed up that stairs to Costia’s room and knocked a few times, waiting. When there was no reply, she felt rage start to burn inside her. First, she hadn’t replied to Lexa’s texts, then she had ditched Lexa at lunch, and now she had the decency to pretend like she wasn’t even in her own room? All the fury she felt was enough for her to build up the courage for what she was about to do next. She barged into Costia’s room, the door slamming into the wall, and looked around, only to find she wasn't there. Everything was in place; the books on the shelves, the rock band posters on the wall, the trig book on the desk. Only Costia was missing.

     Lexa started to wonder if Mr. Jones had been mistaken about the location of his daughter when Costia emerged out of the bathroom in her room, wrapped in only a towel. Her hair was wet and tangled like she had been in the middle of braiding it, stopping when she had heard the loud bang resonating from her room. “Lexa…? What’s going on? What are you doing here?” Costia asked, obviously shocked to find a hysteric Lexa in her room. Lexa, who felt suddenly very embarrassed, said sheepishly, “I’m sorry, Cos. It’s just you weren’t answering and I guess I just…” She felt her voice peter out, unable to finish the sentence. Costia raised her eyebrows.

     “Um, that’s okay Lex.” She gestured to the bed. “Come here.” Lexa walked over to the bed and sat down next to her girlfriend. “Okay, so you want to tell me why you barged in my room on a school night with no notice?” She gave Lexa a cheeky grin, knowing that it wasn’t really that odd that Lexa was here, but something was strange about the smile, almost like she was nervous. Lexa wanted to ask her why she nervous. She wanted to ask her why she hadn’t met her at the lunch room, why all her responses to her texts were short and vague. But all of a sudden she becomes aware of the fact that her beautiful girlfriend is sitting next to her, wet, wearing only a towel.

     She swallows hard. The reasons for her coming in the first place are slowly starting to fade from her mind, a more pressing urge suddenly engulfing her thoughts. Without a word Lexa slowly walks over to the door and closes it, knowing that Mr. Jones won’t come upstairs. His ‘kitchen meetings’ as Lexa like to call them, were very intense, and he almost never left his ‘zone’ while they were happening. Costia eyed Lexa. “Lex, what are you doing? Lexa didn’t answer. Instead, she walks towards her girlfriend and sits on her lap.

     She feels Costia’s warm, soft body beneath her own and the bed dips as Lexa transfers all of her her weight onto Costia. She covers her girlfriend's mouth with her own, not noticing Costia’s sudden intake of breath or the clenching of her fingers. Forcing her fingers to unclench, Costia shut her eyes hard and tries to let herself fall into this, into Lexa’s familiar rhythm. The kiss is intense, deep, and Lexa scratches her fingers on Costia’s scalp, trying to pull her closer. Lexa rubs herself against Costia’s lower stomach, the rough material of her towel rubbing against the material of her own jeans, and Costia lets out a whimper. Lexa’s hands move to Costia’s chest, under the towel, and her lips gravitate towards Costia’s neck.

     Costia’s eyes suddenly fly open. “Stop,” Costia chokes out against Lexa’s shoulder. She pulls back and inhales sharply, her breathing labored. “I…” “What is it?” Lexa murmurs, stilling her hands. She’s still a little bit dazed by their kiss and arousal is making her thoughts unclear. The light from Costia’s lamp in suddenly bright in her eyes, and she feels a little disoriented at the sudden change of mood in the room. She removes her hands from Costia’s chest and leans her forehead against Costia’s. “Whats wrong?” Costia swallows. “I’m sorry,” Costia voice tremored. “I just don’t feel well.” Lexa slides her hand over Costia’s. “Cos, it’s been so long since we… since the last time that we…” Costia swallowed thickly. “I know.”

     Suddenly, all the confusion that Lexa had felt before felt came rushing back, hitting her like a sledgehammer. “Is it me?” Lexa asks, her voice cracking. “Is it something I’ve done? Because if it is, Costia, please just tell me.” Costia shakes her head violently. “No Lexa it’s not you.” Tears on running down her cheeks now, and she moves her hand to cup Lexa’s cheek. “God Lexa, you’re so perfect, so right for me. How could it ever be you?” Lexa covers Costia’s hand with her own. “Then what is it?” The question echoes around the room, hanging between them. Costia swallows hard again and whispers, “It’s just been a rough couple of months.” The lie is so feeble, so pathetic, and it hurts Lexa, buries deep into her heart, into her bones. She can feel the sting of tears in her eyes, so she gets up off Costia, and stands in a corner of the room, her back to the bed she just on.

     “Lexa,” Costia whispers, as she follows Lexa to the corner of the room and puts her hand on her shoulder. “You didn’t come.” The words are hushed, so quiet that Costia has to strain to hear them. “We had a plan to meet at lunch today and you didn’t come Cos. You don’t respond to my texts anymore, not the way I want you too, and you never want to hang out.” Lexa turns around. “You have to tell me Cos. You have to tell me what’s going on.” Lexa’s voice cracks again, and she feels a sob building in her throat. “Because I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.” They're both crying now, and Lexa fights the urge to wrap her arms around the other girl.

      “We’re leaving Lexa.” The words hang there, and it takes Lexa a moment to process what Costia said. Her heart turns to ice. “What?” Lexa asks, her voice colored with disbelief. Surely, she heard something wrong. Surely, she heard something else. “Me and my dad, we’re moving to New York. He got an amazing job offer, an opportunity of a lifetime. He couldn’t turn it down. “ Lexa hears Costia’s word in slow motion, almost like she was in a youtube video thats speed has been reduced by half. “How long have you known?” The words sound cold and detached, not at all like Lexa, but she can’t bring herself to care. Costia trains her eyes on Lexa’s chin. “A month and a half now.”

     “When are you leaving?”

     “In two weeks.”

     “Why didn’t you tell me?” Lexa can hear her own voice, laced with pain, and she winced internally at how pathetic and needy she sounds. “I tried. Every time I saw you I tried Lexa. But I just couldn’t bring myself to say it. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you. It’s just been too hard. Looking at you and loving you, knowing that I was lying to you in a way. I just couldn’t.”

     Lexa just stares at her in disbelief. Suddenly, she takes in the piles of organized clothes around the room, Costia’s academic awards in a box. How hadn’t she noticed that before? Lexa threads her hands through her hair, pacing around the room frantically. Any anger or disbelief she had been feeling just moments before disappears, replaced with a strong impulse to fix this, to fix her situation. “It’s okay, we’ll figure it out. We’ll text every day and arrange skype calls.” Lexa says frantically. “We’ll -” She halts to a stop when Costia tugs on her arm forcing Lexa to face her.

     “Lexa, stop.” She takes a deep breath as if mentally preparing herself for what she’s about to say next.

     "You don’t understand. I don’t want to keep in touch.” Lexa stares at her. The world stops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! Please tell me what you think by commenting below:) See you guys next time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I know it's been awhile, but i've just been really busy lately with finals. I hope you guys like this chapter, it's my favorite so far:)

     Lake Washington is beautiful. Clarke loves the shimmering blue water, the smooth rocks on the shore. She loves the woodland that surrounds the body of water, the way the sun sets on it in the evening, and how fresh the air around the lake is. The best thing about it though is that she can see all the places surrounding it; Mercer Island, Downtown Seattle, Bellevue, Kirkland. Clarke can see all of it. She can almost feel all of the life in those places, the stories, the excitement. Looking out at all of it reminds Clarke how small she is, how nearly insignificant her own story is in the whole scheme of the world. It never fails to inspire her.

     This is why Clarke thought that the lake would be the best possible place to have Lexa’s first tutoring session. There was no better place in King County. She had brought brushes, paint, pencils, charcoal, and pretty much everything else they might need. She had picked out the perfect spot at the lake. A rocky shore in the middle of the Seward Park loop that had a wide open view of the lake and a flat stone picnic table, perfect for drawing. She had mapped out every minute of the hour and a half that they would be together. She had prepared, organized, and planned. And Lexa Woods didn’t even have the decency to pay attention.

     “So, the real difference between artists and people that can’t draw is that they see things differently. When an artist draws something, they don't just draw a shape. They draw lights, shades, depth. You can’t just draw a wine glass as a half circle and a line down the middle. There’s detail involved. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Clarke looks up from her sketchbook. She’s been sketching out the lake while she’s been talking, trying to give Lexa an example for what she meant. Lexa obviously does not understand. Well, she might be capable of understanding, if she would actually look at Clarke and listen instead of gazing out at the lake. She’s been like this for the past half hour, moody, barely talking and barely listening. She’s so out of it, Clarke wonders why she even bothered coming in the first place. Clarke lets out a huff of frustration.

     “Lexa!” She slams her hand against the table. Lexa jumps a little, breaking out of her thoughts, the far away look in her eyes vanishing as she turns her attention to Clarke. “Did you even hear one word I said?” Clarke asks, both annoyed and hurt. Did Lexa not understand what a commitment this was? How big a favor she was doing her? Clarke doesn’t even know why she bothered. Maybe she should have just let Lexa fail. Lexa just looks at Clarke. She opens her mouth to say something, but Clarke interrupts her. “Look, if you're just going to come to every one of our sessions and just ignore me, then just don’t come, okay? You’re the one that might not graduate, not me. You made a commitment to be here with me at 7:00. That means mentally too.” Not waiting for Lexa’s reply, she shoves the sketchbook into the girl's arms.

     “Sketch the lake. And pay attention to the sketch I made okay? Use it as an example. You better not do a bunch of squiggly lines.” With those last words, she turns away from the basketball player and takes out her phone, about to send an angry group text to Raven and Octavia about how annoying Lexa is. Suddenly, she feels a warm hand cover her own, and she turned around, surprised, to see Lexa leaning towards her, her green eyes boring into Clarke’s. Clarke swallows, butterflies erupting in her stomach. “I’m sorry Clarke, I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just been a long day.” Her other hand, the one that wasn’t covering Clarke’s own, runs through her curly chestnut hair, brushing it back from where the cool breeze is pushing it into her face. “I promise I’ll be present from now on.” She looked at Clarke earnestly. “I really do appreciate what you’re doing.” Clarke’s throat goes dry. Why does Lexa have to be so damn cute? Clarke doesn’t trust herself to speak, so she just nods. Lexa nods in return, retracting her hand, and returns her attention back to the sketchbook. Her eyes widen slightly. “This is beautiful…” She murmurs. Clarke averts her gaze, embarrassed. “It’s not a big deal,” Clarke says, her voice scratchy. “I’ve had years of practice.” Lexa shakes her head firmly. “No.” She says, her voice serious. “You’re incredibly talented, Clarke. Trust me, I know talent when I see it.” She begins to sketch on the page herself, not waiting for a reply.

     She bites her lip as she looks back and forth between the page and the lake. Clarke just sits there, not knowing if she should make conversation or let Lexa concentrate. Deciding on the latter, she sits back and observes Lexa. Clarke feels something stir low in her stomach as she watches the other girl. Lexa is wearing a teal Mariners jersey open over a black MHH T-shirt. Her dark blue skinny jeans are tucked into her usual black blundstones, and her long hair is whipping back and forth in the breeze. She isn’t wearing a jacket Clarke notices, and even though it’s sunny outside, the September chill is biting, making the fine hairs on Lexa’s arms stand up as she leans over the sketchbook on the picnic table. Worried that Lexa might notice her staring, Clarke picks up her portfolio from where it is beneath the bench she and Lexa are sitting on and begins to work on one of her own pieces.

     They work in silence for about an hour, Lexa stealing glances at the lake and Clarke stealing glances at Lexa until Lexa clears her throat. Clarke looks over at her, her pencil going still. “Did you finish?” She asks. Lexa nods. “It’s obviously not as good as yours, but…” Lexa shrugs. She hands Clarke the sketchbook. Clarke looks down at the sketch, surprised. It’s actually pretty good. Lexa has managed to capture the way the light reflects on the water, and the sun setting beneath the trees surrounding the lake. The proportions are a bit off, sure, and the water is too blue, but those things could be easily improved. Lexa has serious potential. “Wow, Woods. I’m impressed. Seriously. This is really good.” Lexa smiles at her, obviously pleased. She dips her head. “Thanks.” “I mean, if you had actually taken art classes at MHH, you’d be a pretty good artist.” Lexa nods slowly, her gaze steady on Clarke. “Well I missed out, I guess,” She finally replies. Clarke nods in response and looks down at her watch, a gift from her father for her 18th birthday. “Wow,” Clarke says. “It’s already 8:30. I guess we should head out.”

     Lexa’s eyes darken, her shoulders stiffen, and she suddenly looked so weary, like she’s been drained of every drop of energy she’s ever had. Clarke doesn’t understand. First Lexa acts like she wants to be anywhere but here, and now she doesn't want to leave? It’s been a long day. Clarke reflects on those words, wondering what happened to make Lexa look so sad, but she figures it isn’t her place to ask. If the girl wanted to share, then she would. Still, something feels wrong about leaving Lexa like this when she is so down. The words are out of her mouth before she can even think about what she’s saying before she can reason with herself. “Unless… you maybe want to chill or something?”

     Clarke wants to slap herself. Why would Lexa Woods want chill with her? They barely know each other. Lexa just looks at her, mildly surprised, the tired look in her eyes disappearing. “I mean, you totally don’t have too. Like if you’re busy or something, school can be such a pain…” Clarke rambles. She feels her face going red. She stops her little speech when she sees Lexa nod. “Sure. What did you have in mind?” Now it was Clarke’s turn to look surprised. Has Lexa agreed to hang out with her? Her, Clarke Griffin? This day really is getting more and more bizarre. They both stand up awkwardly. Clarke begins to gather her art supplies, putting it all in a large canvas bag. “Um, I don’t really know. I was hoping you’d have an idea. We could always just go back to my house and watch a movie.” Clarke suggests.

    Lexa helps Clarke gather up all the supplies and shakes her head. “I have a better idea actually.” She says. Did you drive here?” Clarke shakes her head. “No, did you?” “Nah,” Lexa replies. “I took the bus down to Othello and walked from there.” Clarke nods, thinking. “Well, I live really close by, on Lake Washington Boulevard. We can go back to my place and get my car if you want.” Lexa raises her eyebrows. Clarke sighs internally, knowing exactly what Lexa is thinking. Lake Washington Boulevard is where the snobby, rich Seattle kids lived. She hates telling people where she lives. She always feels like she is being judged when she tells them. It gets even worse when they find out what kind of car she drives. She wonders what Lexa’s response will be. She waits for a snide comment from Lexa, but none comes. Instead, Lexa takes Clarke’s canvas bag and hefts it over her shoulder and begins to walk. Clarke falls into step beside her.

     As they walked around the Seward Park loop to reach Clarke’s house, Clarke sees Lexa shivering. She once again notes the absence of the Kuhl jacket that she always wears. “Hey, where’s your jacket? You do know it’s September, right?” Clarke teases. Lexa’s eyes grow weary again. “I visited Costia before I came here. I accidentally forgot it at her house.” “Ahh,” Clarke says lightly. “I didn’t know you were in such a rush to see me.” The comment is light but obviously questioning. The look in Lexa’s green eyes suddenly becomes guarded and she shrugs her shoulder. The gesture is clear. Clarke will not be getting any answers. Clarke lets it go. She’ll figure out Lexa Woods eventually, one way or the other.

* * *

 

     Lexa doesn’t know what’s going on. Four hours ago, she was storming out of Costia’s house. Now, she’s headed to Clarke Griffin’s house to go pick up the girls car. It’s all so bizarre that she doesn’t really allow herself to think about it, because if she does, she’ll have a mental breakdown. She doesn’t know why she agreed to hang out with Clarke. Maybe it was because of the blonde's cute rambling. Or maybe it was because that in the 2 hours they were together, Lexa didn’t feel like she was drowning. She wants to call Anya or maybe Lincoln, to tell them what had happened, but something stops her. She knows that Anya will just get furious on her behalf, and Lexa doesn’t want that. Lincoln is sweet, but Lexa knows that if she tells him, then he would just pity her. She doesn’t want that either. So, she’s content to just be with Clarke tonight, and do anything but think about Costia.

     She and Clarke are walking on Lake Washington Boulevard, passing numerous beautiful houses. They finally stop at a huge home, right on the lake. Clarke pushes a button on a fob she pulls out of her pocket, and the entire house moves. Wait no, not the entire house Lexa notices, but an entire wall of the lowest floor moves upwards. Clarke walks inside, her gaze avoiding Lexa, only turning around to see if Lexa is following her. Hesitantly, and still a little shocked by everything that’s going on, Lexa follows Clarke. She looks around, and her jaw drops.

     There are five cars in front of her, all in a line, all pristine and beautiful. Lexa sees a BMW i8, a Tesla, the new Acura NSX, and a 2017 Ford GT. And at the end of the line…no. No way. That wasn’t the Porsche 911 GT3RS, was it? Lexa felt like she was in some sort of dream. She was a serious car enthusiast, but never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that she would ever be this close to some of the fastest, nicest, craftsmanship in the world. She was literally surrounded by top rate engineering. And she was going to ride in one of them. She looks over at Clarke, her mouth still wide open. “This is a joke, right? Tell me the bottom floor of your house is not a huge garage."

     Clarke gave Lexa a sheepish grin. Her hand is rubbing the back of her neck self-consciously. “My dad loves cars. Like really really loves cars. He’s an aerospace engineer, not a mechanical one, but speed fascinates him.” Lexa is still gaping at Clarke. “And one of these is yours?” Clarke nods gesturing at the Porsche. “The 911.” Lexa whistles. “How did you convince your parents to get you that?” Clarke gives her a small smile. “My dad lost a bet. I told him that I wanted a car, nothing fancy, just like a little Honda or something but he said no. So I kept on asking over and over until one day he said that if I could name every single Beatles song ever written, he’d get me his favorite car of the year. So I named them. It’s a bit overkill honestly, so I told him that a Honda was fine. He insisted though. He believes adamantly in the ‘a deal is a deal thing.’” Clarke laughs at the memory. “He was so shocked I wish I had taken a picture of his face.”

     Lexa looked at Clarke a little confused. “Wait a sec, if you knew every single Beatles song you must be obsessed with them, no? How wouldn’t your dad be aware of that? Why would he make a bet on something he knew you were knowledgeable about?” “The Beatles are my dad’s favorite band. He would always try to convince me to listen to their music with him, but I’d always refuse because I was kind of embarrassed by what Octavia and Bellamy would think. I know this sounds really dumb, but I started listening to them in secret after I heard 'No Reply' playing out of my dad's office and I fell in love with their music. So when he asked, I knew them.”

     Lexa just stares at Clarke. It’s not that she expected Clarke to be stereotypical or anything, but she’s still surprised by how much depth the girl has. To Lexa, Clarke has just been an insignificant part of her life, kind of like some random kid you sit next to in biology. You don’t really imagine they have a life or a story of their own, they’re just kind of there. But now, Lexa is starting to feel like Clarke is stepping out of that insignificance, becoming a person in Lexa’s life. She can see it happening. She knows right then and there that she and Clarke are going to become fast friends. And it's nice, she thinks to herself, to get to know somebody else, other than Lincoln and Anya who she’s known for years.

     “I like the Beatles too.” She gives Clarke a small grin. “It’s not something you need to hide.” Clarke just shrugs. “I don’t feel like I’m hiding it anymore, it’s more like I don’t feel the need to share with everyone, you know?” Lexa nods. She does know. That’s how she feels about a lot of things. Clarke gives Lexa a grin. "Besides it's not like people who listen to Justin Beiber will appreciate the awesomeness that is John Lennon." Lexa laughs, not mentioning that she herself listens to some Justin Beiber. “Well, now that you know my life story, you want to get out of here?” Excitement flares up in Lexa’s stomach and she nods furiously. Clarke laughs at her enthusiasm and walks towards a little rack on the far side of the garage. She grabs something from the shelf and tosses it at Lexa. Lexa, who is a born and bred athlete catches it easily. She looks down at the key in her hand, stamped with the Porsche logo. No way. She looked up from her palm up at Clarke who is grinning. “You’re driving Woods.” It was going to be a fun night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! If you have any thoughts, i'd love to hear your comments!!

**Author's Note:**

> Well that's it for the first chapter. Hope you liked it:P  
> I'll try to update as frequently as possible. See you then!


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